On the Ground in Ferguson, One 24-Year-Old Woman's Experience

Liz Peinado (above left) is a lot like any 24-year-old woman: She posts the occasional outfit selfie on Instagram; is passionate about her job as an educator; talks to her mom on the phone a lot; and enjoys 'Orange Is the New Black.' But for the past week, Peinado has been on the front lines of the protests in Ferguson, Missouri, where, on August 9, Michael Brown, an unarmed black teenager, was shot and killed by police. (Recently-released results from an independent autopsy show Brown was shot six times.)

Peinado, who grew up in Chicago, came to Saint Louis two years ago as a Teach For America volunteer. When she and over 100 other teachers in her Normandy district school were laid off after the school was dissolved, she joined Alderman Antonio French in his education project, North Campus, which provides enrichment and community support for Saint Louis' north city district. Peinado is a director of after-school programming there. When Alderman French caught wind of a local news report describing the mourning community in Ferguson as an "angry mob," he went over there to, in Peinado's words, "go out and just [capture] as much as he could, via Twitter, via Vine." Peinado followed suit. On Wednesday night, both French and Peinado were arrested, for failure to comply with orders and unlawful assembly, respectively, and released the following morning. She has been on the ground in Ferguson every day since her arrest.

"On Sunday, my co-worker Meghan Flannery decided to go to Ferguson to see what was going on. [Ferguson is seven miles from Saint Louis.] There are people gathered in front of the QuikTrip that has already been burned, and there was a lot of raw emotion. A couple people were saying, 'Fuck the police,' venting to the small crowd that was there. Some people were just sitting with their signs: 'Don't shoot,' 'Hands up.' That was the main thing we heard: 'Hands up! Don't shoot!'

There are three major areas of protest: right in front of the QuikTrip, which is a block or so from the street Mike Brown was actually shot on; right in front of the Ferguson Police Department; and nighttime activities seem to be at the intersection of Chambers and West Florissant.

It was around 7:30 P.M. I was sitting with Megan in a parking lot by our car and in roll the tanks and army-looking guys. Suddenly the crowd moved into the street. The police quickly moved in and then there was tear gas. So we jumped into the car and rolled the windows up. Two gentlemen ran into the same parking lot where we were parked and they both had their hands up, each carrying a phone. I watched the police throw tear gas at them while they were unarmed.

I could feel the tear gas from the car with the windows closed. I can't imagine what it was like outside. Your skin tingles, your eyes water, and I was inside. I was in awe. I had never seen anything like that in my entire life. They had clearly surrendered. I felt like I was living a history book or watching the news from some other country—I didn't feel like I was seven miles from home.

Antonio French, firstly, is an alderman, and on Wednesday night, in his ward, we were having our last jazz music series. The performer was actually a gentleman from the Ferguson area. French set the mood, we had a moment of silence for Mike Brown, and then he went back to Ferguson to help. We stayed for the concert, made sure everything went well, which it did, and then after we cleaned up, we went back by the Police Station.

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Every night I've been to that particular site and it had always been peaceful and self-regulated, meaning, if someone in our small crowd said 'Fuck the police,' the other protestors would say, 'No, we're not doing that here,' and quickly shush them. Or if someone stepped on the street, we'd say, 'No, we're only on the sidewalk.' Everyone is very aware of how to protest lawfully.

The event ended at 8:30 P.M. At 10:40 P.M., we heard from French's wife saying that he had been arrested. So we tweet and tell everyone #FreeFrench and our crowd by the police station grew from around 40 people to around 75. It was still peaceful: 'Hands up. Don't shoot. Free French.' By around 1:30 A.M., the crowd had dwindled to about 50 people. I went to my car to charge my phone and I see these bright lights rolling down the street. I realize that it's four of those tanks and probably 50 guys, enough to line an entire block, with their riot gear on, batons, shields. Over the loudspeaker they say, 'It's time to go home. If you don't leave, you're going to get arrested.' Immediately, half the crowd runs away because it's been our experience that when you see a tank, tear gas shortly follows. About 25 people leave, 25 of us are still there. People are starting to get angry at this point because everyone is still on the sidewalk, peaceful, and well within their rights. So some people start yelling back at the police, 'This is our right. You know you're wrong.' While they're yelling I took a seat on the sidewalk. I had one hand in the air with a peace sign and one hand on my cell phone. I wanted to wait until my boss and great friend, Antonio French, was released from jail.

A photo posted by lifeinmylense (@lifeinmylense) on Aug 14, 2014 at 10:33am PDT

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By 2:15 a.m., pretty much everyone had left except for six people including myself and Megan. Then we hear, 'This is your final warning.' And again, in the past, when we hear that, it means they're gonna release tear gas. So we get up, move to the car, which is maybe 15 feet from us. One of the girl's car had been blocked—every day there are more and more blockades—so we told her we'd drive her to her car. I got in the front passenger seat, the other girl got in the back. I was in the car and buckled, the other girl was buckled, doors were closed, and Megan had just opened her door, when at least seven officers surrounded our car and told us we were all under arrest. The cop told me to open the door, and I was like, 'No, I'm in the car.' And he said, 'I'm gonna ask you one more time to open the door.' And I thought, 'Well, this isn't my car and I really don't want him to break the window, so, okay.' I open the door and the officer says, 'Get out.' I have a choice: I can choose to get manhandled and hope that someone catches it on camera, or just get out of the car. I'm 4'11." I'm a tiny woman and I don't really want to get manhandled. I get out of the car, he turns me around and puts zip ties on me. He grabs me by the arm to walk me to the police van. He has a tight grip on my arm and I look up at this very large man and say, 'I'm a tiny woman. You don't have to grab me that hard.' So he releases his tight grip, puts me in the van, and drives me across the street to the police station. [Peinado was booked for "failure to comply with orders" and "noise."]

At :46 you can see Liz being arrested.

They put us in a cell. I don't know much about jail. All I know is from the news or movies or Orange is the New Black. The cell had one metal bed for the three of us and no toilet paper for our bathroom stall. I had to request about five times for them to finally give it us. One of the girls in the cell was on her menstrual cycle—we needed toilet paper.

We spent eight hours in jail. The sound effects of jail was one of the worst things for me. There was a man in there moaning and groaning; it sounded like he was dying. We could hear Antonio French calling for him to get help. It was also outrageously, uncomfortably cold. We were trying to take toilet paper—once we got it—and wrap it around our hands and feet.

I've always been very proud to be [politically] active. I joined Teach for America. I believe everyone has a right to their rights, education being one of them. I'm heartbroken for the Brown family, for the community, but really, I'm heartbroken for America that we're still allowing this to happen. It happens far too often. I'm proud to be a part of the movement that's saying, 'This is not okay.' And if, in the process, my own rights get taken away? I'm okay with that if it leads to a long-term change. I'm going to continue to be vocal about it. I want people to know that everyone's rights are kinda being taken away right now."

After Liz Peinado was released from jail she "took a long shower and had a good cry." She's been back to Ferguson every day following her arrest, though she texts me that she left last night hours before curfew. (On Saturday, August 16, Missouri Gov. Jay Nixon declared a state of emergency and implemented a midnight to 5 a.m. curfew in Ferguson. Last night, violence escalated in Ferguson marking one of the most violent and chaotic nights so far.) While Peinado had felt positive about Sunday's peaceful protests, describing the scene of community (Tibetan monks even descended upon Ferguson) as "a beautiful thing…a celebration of life," as darkness fell, things shifted. "The crowd became less family oriented, younger, and they were riling each other up," she tells me via text. "You could hear more profanity. The unfortunate thing is that there are still hundreds out and most are there with the right intentions: to peacefully protest."

Peinado describes running into one of her former students, a star football player, at Sunday's daytime protests. "Mike Brown could have been one of my kids," she says over the phone. "I feel passionate about making sure there is some justice, making sure our kids are educated, and giving them a voice to talk about this."

North Campus already organizes socials with local police officers, K9 units, and fire fighters. "It's a Q&A and then ice cream or pizza so real conversations can be had," Peinado explains. She says the events in Ferguson highlight the need for continued relationship building between police officers and community members. If you'd like to donate to North Campus, visit their website.